Never the Twain

by Judith B. Glad

  She was going to be terribly late. One thing and another--a gregarious neighbor, an empty gas tank, another telephone solicitation--conspired to keep her in Vale until nearly six o'clock. And when she tried to call Rock to tell him she was running late, she discovered his phone was out of order.

  To make matters worse, she broke a fingernail opening the sliding door on her van.

  The big log house was blazing with light when she pulled into the driveway, but there were no vehicles in the driveway. It couldn't be a party.

  "Where the hell have you been?" Rock demanded when he pulled the door open. His face was set in grim lines, angry lines.

  "Hello, Genny. I missed you, Genny. Did you have a safe trip, Genny?" She handed him her overnight bag and slipped past him into the wide front hall. "You really make a person feel welcome, Rock."

  "I expected you hours ago." He slammed the door and stalked past her, heading for the kitchen. As she followed, Genny looked into the brightly-lit living room. Empty. So was the dining room. The door to Rock's study, across the hall, was closed, but a line of light showed under the door. He must be trying to support Idaho Power all by himself.

  She didn't really have time in her life for a bossy, temperamental, spoiled man. Could she live without him? This past week had gone a long way towards showing her she couldn't. She'd missed him as she would if part of herself were absent.

  She followed Rock into the kitchen and stopped short. "Sophie? Where have--?"

  "Hello, dear. Rock said you were concerned about me." Astonished, Genny stood stiff while her aunt embraced her. "I told you in my note not to worry."

  "Where have you been? Why haven't you called? If you only knew...."

  "Genille, dear, I have been taking care of myself for many years."

  "And now I'll be taking care of her," Pancho said, coming from the back porch and slipping an arm around Sophie's waist.

  Genny goggled. She'd never known her aunt to date. And she certainly had never--never--seen her lean into a man's embrace as if she belonged there.

  "Wish us well, Genille. Pancho and I were married last Sunday." She looked up at Rock's cook with a sweet smile and stars in her eyes. Genny had never seen Sophie so beautiful. Or so apparently happy.

  "I think I'd better sit down," she said, feeling her knees weaken.

  Stumbling across the kitchen, she dropped into a chair. "Why, Sophie? How could you...?" She shook her head. "To just go off like that, and not let anyone know...."

  "It was my fault, Miss Forsythe," Pancho said, never relinquishing his hold on her aunt. "I was afraid that if I gave her time to consider, she might change her mind. I regret if our impetuosity caused you grief."

  "Don't believe him, Genille. I was as eager as he was." Again Sophie aimed an enchanted smile at Pancho. "I've never been swept off my feet before, and I wanted to enjoy the experience." She patted the hand resting on her waist. "Besides, at my age, one daren't let a moment of happiness escape."

  Taking a deep breath, Genny smiled at the older couple. "I'm very happy for you both. This is...is wonderful news." She had to stop and swallow the tears that hovered just behind her eyes. "Have you told the family?" Sophie was her mother's oldest sister, and Mom's only remaining blood relative. The extended Forsythe family considered her one of theirs. "What about your job?"

  "We're going to call tomorrow," Sophie replied. "It was too late when we arrived this evening, what with the time difference and all." Slipping free of her bridegroom's embrace, she pulled a chair close to Genny's. "I faxed my resignation from Reno, before the wedding. I'd intended to call you from there, but, well, I just never got around to it."

  From the lecherous smirk on Pancho's face, Genny could imagine why. Anger rose within her.

  "Don't you think you're a little old for such...such thoughtless behavior, Sophie? An elopement? How romantic! How inconsiderate! If you only knew how I worried. You've been gone almost a week and you didn't even have the good manners to call...."

  "That's quite enough, Genille!"

  "Put a lid on it, Genny!"

  "Miss Forsythe, I protest!"

  Genny felt her mouth drop open at the assault from all sides. She immediately regretted her outburst, but she didn't think it deserved the glares she was being impaled with. "I'm sorry, Sophie. It's none of my business what you do. But you were my guest, and I think I had a right to be concerned."

  "I left you a note, Genille. Your responsibility ended there." Her beloved aunt had never been so cool to her before. Genny felt abandoned.

  "I told you she'd be all right," Rock reminded her. "And I said she was probably with Pancho. You wouldn't believe me."

  If there was anything Genny hated more than a bossy man, it was one who was also right and told her so. "Oh, shut up," she snarled. "Since you're safe, Sophie, I think I'll go home. I've been neglecting Marmalade." She picked up her overnight bag from the floor where Rock had dropped it and headed for the front door.

  "You're not going anywhere," Rock said, grabbing her above the elbow.

  She tried to jerk her arm free. "Oh, yes I am. I'm going home."

  Immediately she felt her feet leave the floor as Rock swept her into his arms. "You're going to bed," he said, his voice hard. "With me."

  "Let me go!" She kicked and struggled but was held in an unbreakable embrace. Her futile struggles only made her angrier, as Rock carried her up the stairs and along the upper hall. When he shouldered his bedroom door open, she started pounding on his chest with her free hand. "Let me go, damn you! Let me go!"

  "Why, Genille Enderby Forsythe! Was that a cuss word sullyin' your pretty lips? Shame on you."

  He tossed her to the bed, and before she could roll away, fell on top of her. "Now, if you'll just calm down, we'll talk about this. Believe me, darlin', you aren't any happier about this whole shebang than I am."

  His words stopped her struggles. She stared at him, seeing the dark anger still in his face. "You don't approve?"

  "Hell no! That pretty, sweet smellin' lady is gonna break Pancho's heart. And there isn't a damn thing I can do about it."

  "Sophie is going to break Pancho's heart? Haven't you got it backwards?" Genny couldn't believe Rock. Didn't he see that her gentle, sophisticated aunt was totally out of her element as Pancho's wife? "Rock, he's a cook!"

  That hadn't come out quite like she meant it, but before she could say anything else, Rock reared back, glaring.

  "Yeah, Pancho's a cook. And I'm a cowboy. Does that make us dirt under your pretty little feet, City Girl?" Rolling off the bed, he stalked across the bedroom, to stand silhouetted before the sliding glass doors that looked out at the Owyhee Mountains. The night was black, and the curtainless window reflected everything in the room. Her image stared back at her, hair disheveled, face mottled from unshed tears, eyes pleading.

  No, darn it! She wasn't going to plead for anything from Rock. Not even understanding.

  "Don't twist my words!" she said, rolling off the bed and to her feet. In three strides, she was standing behind him, close enough to make her point but far enough that he couldn't misinterpret it. "I'm not a snob and neither is Sophie. And I'm not a city girl; our farm may not be bigger than Rhode Island, but it's a long way from a city. Sophie does live in a city, I admit. She has for years. You've got to agree that a lifetime in Boston hasn't prepared her to live out in some godforsaken covered wagon like your grandmother did."

  "Pancho lives here." He gestured, to indicate the ranch house. His voice was soft, his words were clipped. The line of his shoulders was unyielding.

  "So? Do you expect Sophie to move in? To take over Pancho's chores, picking up after you and washing your dirty socks?" The more she said, the angrier she got. "My aunt is a successful businesswoman, Rock. Not some domestic servant moving in for your convenience. She didn't get to be an executive secretary because she can type and make decent coffee. She has an MBA, for Pete's sake. She makes three times as much a year as I do"

  "Good. S
he can help me with my taxes." He whipped around to face her. She took a step backwards when his glare struck her. "Can she use a computer?"

  "Of course she...darn it Rock! You're confusing the issue! The point I'm trying to make is that it won't just be Pancho who'll suffer from this marriage." Rock had glared at her as much as he'd smiled in the month they'd known each other, but never with the hostility she saw in his eyes now. Genny took a deep breath, hoping to make him understand.

  "Can we sit down?" She gestured at the two tapestry-covered chairs in the seating area of Rock's huge bedroom. "I'd like to tell you about Sophie, so you'll understand why I'm so concerned."

  The tenseness in his jaw remained and his eyes were no less narrowed, but he did move away from the window. She seated herself, while Rock leaned, his long arms propping him on the back of the other chair. "I'm listenin'."

  "Sophie's heart was broken when she was young," Genny told Rock, remembering how she'd thought the story was so wonderfully romantic when she was a child. "She was just seventeen when she fell in love, and he was five years older. He was a senior in college. He loved her as much as she loved him." She heard her voice go soft and dreamy, and wasn't surprised. Sophie's story had always seemed incredibly romantic. Like an especially poignant novel.

  "Stewart's major was Eastern Philosophy. He was in R.O.T.C because that was the only way he could afford college; he was the youngest of nine children and his parents weren't wealthy."

  Rock made an indeterminate sound that she interpreted as impatience. She decided he wouldn't want to hear about the poems Stewart wrote, or how happy and carefree he and Sophie were.

  "They were going to wait until he got his military obligation out of the way. Stewart didn't want Sophie to be tied down while she was still in college, and he wouldn't hear of her quitting to marry him."

  Another restless sound. She left out all her favorite parts, afraid Rock would walk out in the middle of the story. "Stewart was in Military Intelligence, a...a spy, I think. He was sent to Viet Nam. Within a month he disappeared. No one ever knew what happened to him. He was just gone." As usual, she choked up. Her voice shook and her eyes burned as she finished Sophie's story. "Sophie was pregnant. But she lost the baby. She was left with nothing but beautiful memories. And she never loved again."

  "That's the biggest pile of crap I've ever heard."

  "Rock!"

  "If you think Sophie has spent her life pinin' for lost love, you've got another think comin'. That's one foxy old gal, Genny, and she could teach you a trick or two."

  Her jaw dropped. The very idea!

  "Ask her if she spent the last twenty-five or thirty years mourning for Stewart." His tone challenged her.

  "I...I can't. It's none of my business."

  But now that Rock had put the idea in her head, she couldn't help but wonder if her aunt had indeed been celibate for so many years.

  "Neither's her marriage to Pancho." Rock's eyes narrowed. She could almost see the wheels turning behind them.

  After a long moment of silence, she said, "What is it Rock? What are you thinking?"

  "That I'm as big a fool as you." He sounded embarrassed.

  She bristled. Romantic she might be, but believing in the poignancy of Stewart's and Sophie's tragic love didn't make her a fool.

  "Pancho and Sophie aren't any of my business either." His mouth twisted, and she could tell it wasn't easy for him to admit error. "Here you and me have been goin' round and round about something we can't change, and wouldn't have any right to if we could."

  "We love 'em. They're married." The slight inflection in his voice made his words a question, as if he needed her agreement.

  She nodded.

  "It's up to us to do what we can to show 'em we're okay with it. I surely don't wish Pancho any misery, or Sophie neither."

  "No. Nor do I." Suddenly ashamed, Genny wondered why she had reacted as she had. Darn it, she liked Pancho--he was a nice man. Patient, gentle, caring. And a wonderful cook. "I hope they'll be happy. I really do."

  "So do I, even though I have my doubts." He rubbed his chin, and Genny heard the soft rasp of a day's growth of whiskers. "When Pa married Selma," a frown flitted across his brow," they sent out fancy announcements to all their friends. Reckon we oughta do that?"

  "Yes, of course. I'll be glad to help." She stopped, feeling an idea trying to make itself known. "I'd like to do something more, though, since Sophie's a stranger here."

  "Yeah, me too. A party maybe. Invite all the neighbors?"

  She knew he meant everyone within a hundred miles. Neighbors were few and far between in Owyhee Country. "Not just a party, Rock. Let's give them a reception!" She bounced up and down in sudden enthusiasm. "A real wedding reception. With a cake, and everything."

  "I don't know," he said, sounding unsure. "What's wrong with an ordinary party? Or a barbecue." He grinned widely. "Back when Pa was alive, we used to have a big barbecue every August. I didn't bother, last year. It didn't seem worthwhile, somehow."

  Genny tucked a thought in the back of her mind, to worry when she had time. There was more than ordinary sorrow in Rock for the death of his father. She should have noticed sooner. Whenever he mentioned his father or his stepmother, he changed. Became angry. And she usually got the brunt of it. But for now, she had a party to plan.

  "What's wrong with both?"

  His eyebrows lifted.

  "A reception and a barbecue? We could have a big wedding cake, and you could cook a whole cow, or whatever you do." The Daniels had roasted a whole pig in a pit in their yard, besides grilling a truckload of steaks.

  "Dancing on the pad," he contributed, referring to the concrete landing pad where the helicopter sat. "The Jones Boys always used to play for us. That's a country western band," he added, at her questioning look. "And maybe some steer ropin', just to keep things interesting."

  "I could invite my whole family. They promised to come West to see me next summer, but I'll bet they'd come this year for Sophie's wedding reception." A dark shadow seemed to cross Rock's eyes, but she ignored it. Of course Sophie would want her family to meet her new husband. She looked around. "Have you got something I can write on, Rock? I want to start making lists."

  "Whoa, there, darlin'. There's plenty of time for lists in the mornin'. We got us better things to do tonight." He pulled her to her feet. "My feelings will be plumb devastated if you'd rather plan a party than share some lovin' with me."

  She melted against him, aware that nothing had been resolved, that she still had a hard kernel of anger smoldering within her. But how could she resist, when his touch promised paradise?

  Chapter Ten

  Rock tried to discern the color of the truck trailing a plume of dust along the Cow Lake Road. He was supposed to be going over to Fields to look at a bull. Instead he was hovering, hoping to see a pale-haired archaeologist in the pickup goin' hell bent for leather toward the Jordan Craters. If he had any brains atall, he'd be heading southeast, before the late afternoon thunderstorms began.

  Tarnation! He had better things to do with his time than watch for Genny at every turn. Better things to do, but not more urgent, for a day without seeing Genny was incomplete, barren.

  He reached for the binoculars he kept behind the seat, but just then a flash of metallic blue shone from the vehicle below. It wasn't her.

  He'd had no reason to think it was even a BLM rig. Just hope. And hunger.

  He rotated the 'copter. Might as well get some work done, since he wasn't going to see Genny today. He felt the vibrations in his bones as he increased rpm and veered away toward the southeast.

  Scarce seconds later, he was listening intently to the radio, tuned to the BLM frequency. He'd missed the dispatcher's first few words.

  "...trying to get down into the canyon to help. She thinks the man was injured, but she couldn't be sure, from up on top. How far away are you Chuck?"

  Chuck's voice blared and faded. "...mechanical problems...Brogan...at lea
st two hours.. anybody else..."

  Reception fell apart as Rock swung his 'copter around. "BLM. BLM. This is McConnell. I'm just south of Cow Lakes. What's the problem?"

  The dispatcher sounded relieved, even though reception was poor. "Got a rolled camper on the Cricket Canyon Road. Chuck's up by Brogan, broke down..."

  "Yeah, I heard," Rock interrupted. "Who called in?"

  "Forsythe's there. She's going to try to get to the camper, but you know how steep..."

  The copter dipped as, for a moment, he lost track of what he was doing. Genny?

  "BLM. Repeat. I say repeat." His inattention had lost him crucial information.

  Static from scattered thunderstorms crackled among the dispatcher's words. "...can see at least one injured...woman screaming...she can't wait for..."

  Again he interrupted. "Tell her to meet me up at the airstrip. Thirty minutes. I don't think I can land any closer." He increased his rpm. Rough and tumbled, the country around Cricket Canyon was a nightmare to traverse, on foot or horseback. There was a primitive airstrip about a mile from where the road zigzagged down the canyon's almost sheer west wall.

  "...going down...thrown clear and the woman's hysterica..." The dispatcher's signal faded completely in another burst of static. That thunderstorm was rapidly moving east.

  Pushing the engine close to redline, Rock scanned the horizon. If he had his druthers, he'd wait for the Rescue Team, but Genny wasn't going to. He'd bet his bottom dollar she was planning to climb a sheer basalt cliff, to risk her fool neck for some tourist who didn't have brains to recognize an impassible road. Damn! "Tell Forsythe to wait for me," he repeated, knowing there wasn't a chance in hell she would. "And call the Rescue Team."

  "Already done, McConnell. They'll head for Five Points, and wait to hear from you."